


Seize the Day

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Community: trope_bingo, Consent Issues, First Kiss, M/M, Mixed Emotions, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan's thoughts on Brandt, during and after the mission in Ghost Protocol.   Brandt's guilt, Ethan's mixed feelings, and the first night they have the chance to spend together. </p><p>For trope-bingo for the square "Kiss to Save the Day."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seize the Day

When Ethan first read Brandt’s file, when he found out that Brandt blamed himself for Julia’s “death,” his first thought was:

“That explains a lot.”

It explained why Brandt, who was obviously field trained, was working as an analyst. And it explained why Brandt looked like he might break every time Ethan looked him in the eye, a fragility Ethan had noticed was only reserved for him.

His second thought, on learning that Brandt had almost been responsible for his wife getting killed in Croatia, was:

“That prick.”

***

He didn’t want to tell Brandt that he knew. He wasn’t sure that he trusted Brandt yet, and he would have to be _very_ sure before he would be willing to risk his wife’s security. And it would just cause problems on their mission if Brandt realized that Ethan knew, whether he did or didn’t let Brandt continue thinking Julia was dead. They had a nuclear war to stop; nobody needed to focus on personal drama. 

So he studied William Brandt. He pretended not to notice as Brandt stared at him, desperate to keep the truth from Ethan but still considering telling him, wanting that cleansing violence of confession and confrontation.

He thought about the years Brandt had spent living in guilt and regret. He thought about what it must have been like when he heard Julia was dead, the way Brandt must have blamed himself entirely. He thought about Brandt too brittle, too broken, to keep going, too wrecked to do what his body and mind were made for, were trained for.

Ethan knew that if he were in Brandt’s place – if he had failed to warn an asset and an innocent woman had (apparently) died – Ethan would feel guilty too. He would dream about it, wake up in a sweat, for his failure, for his sin. 

Ethan would feel crushed. 

But it wouldn’t make him leave the field. It wouldn’t destroy him, make him cling to a desk for years of self-flagellation.

But the fact that Brandt reacted that way didn’t make Ethan think he was soft. It made Ethan think he was a good man. Not just honorable or courageous, but good in the way Julia is good. 

It made Ethan want to protect him.

But still. He was the prick who almost got Julia killed. 

***

When it was done, when Ethan got out of the hospital, he went to visit Brandt. He was planning on inviting Brandt to join his team regardless of how the night went. But his team requests hadn’t been cleared yet, and Ethan didn’t like offering a maybe. 

Of course, he and Brandt couldn’t work together in the long term with the unspoken hanging between them. Ethan would have to tell him everything. 

But not tonight. There was no way in hell Ethan would take a security risk he didn’t have to. He trusted Brandt after everything, but an unnecessary risk was still an unnecessary risk.

Brandt invited him in. There was whiskey and bad jokes.

Both of them were highly skilled observers, and both of them knew that sometimes you needed to cling to someone, to cling to anything other than bullets and gravity and pain.

They both knew why Ethan was there and they didn’t take long to get to it.

Their kiss was careful at first, then rough. Brandt kissed a line down Ethan’s neck, and then Ethan pushed him against the back of the couch. Brandt arched up into him.

Ethan kissed him again, holding Brandt’s hips a little too tightly. Brandt moaned.

Ethan could see that this was going to work out well.

They talked, in sparse terms, clinical almost. Yes, Ethan liked to be in charge. Yes, Brandt liked to give up control. Yes, Brandt liked pain.

“Limits?” Ethan asked.

He could see Brandt hesitate. 

“Do anything to me,” he finally said.

Ethan stared at him, at the brittleness in his eyes.

“Anything you want,” Brandt added, swallowing.

He was nervous, Ethan could tell. And he wasn’t sure it was the good kind of nervous.

But it was Brandt, his body, his face, his lips, it was this man who was beautiful, this man who was good, telling Ethan he could do whatever he wanted. Inviting Ethan to take him, to claim him, to work over his body inch by inch. 

Nothing could have possibly pushed Ethan’s buttons more. Ethan wanted to make him moan, make him weep and beg and scream, to soothe him afterward until he begged for more. 

He wanted it more than anything. More than anyone, in a very, very long time.

But Ethan could spot a lie with the best of them. And he could see that Brandt didn’t mean it.

Brandt thought he was responsible for the death of Ethan’s wife. And he was telling Ethan he could do anything to him, that Brandt’s body was his.

It was tempting.

So tempting.

A willing body, offering itself to Ethan. 

Brandt wasn’t a delicate flower. He was the guy who didn’t warn him in Serbia. Maybe he wanted to be punished. Maybe he wanted to make amends, and maybe Ethan should let him. 

Maybe Ethan shouldn’t say no to the scent of Brandt’s sweat glistening on his forehead, to the motions of breath moving Brandt’s chest up and down. To the stubble-textured jaw, rough under Ethan’s tongue, to large long-lashed eyes looking to him for pleasure, for redemption. To those lips, plump and wet and saying his name, promising him everything.

Ethan sighed. He moved back, away from Brandt.

“What did…” Brandt trailed off and looked away.

Ethan gave himself a moment to get collected. Then he pulled on Brandt’s arm so they were looking at each other again.

“Not tonight. We can some other night. When we see each other again,” Ethan said. _Some night when you know the truth. When your yes is really a yes._

Brandt nodded. 

Ethan could tell Brandt didn’t believe him, that he thought Ethan was just thinking better of it, like this were just some drunken hookup to blow off steam.

Ethan moved closer for another kiss. It was slow, languid, and he moved his hand up to cup Brandt’s face. He came up for air and then kept kissing, softly, taking control but moving slowly, smooth circles of the tongue, every swipe a promise of what he had in mind for some other night.

When he was done, he repeated, “Not tonight. But soon.”

Brandt nodded. “Another night,” he agreed.

Ethan was a great spy. He was superb at knowing when someone was lying. And this time, he could tell: Brandt was telling the truth.


End file.
